IS about us too--about every one. They think it's the same as
if I wrote it," Francie ruefully mentioned.

"Well, you know what you COULD do!" And Mr. Dosson beamed at her for
common cheer.

"Do you mean that piece about your picture--that you told me about when
you went with him again to see it?" Delia demanded.

"Oh I don't know what piece it is; I haven't seen it."

"Haven't seen it? Didn't they show it to you?"

"Yes, but I couldn't read it. Mme. de Brecourt wanted me to take it--but
I left it behind."

"Well, that's LIKE you--like the Tauchnitzes littering up our track.
I'll be bound I'd see it," Delia declared. "Hasn't it come, doesn't it
always come?"

"I guess we haven't had the last--unless it's somewhere round," said Mr.
Dosson.

"Poppa, go out and get it--you can buy it on the boulevard!" Delia
continued. "Francie, what DID you want to tell him?"

"I didn't know. I was just conversing. He seemed to take so much
interest," Francie pleaded.

"Oh he's a deep one!" groaned Delia.

"Well, if folks are immoral you can't keep it out of the papers--and I
don't know as you ought to want to," Mr. Dosson remarked. "If they ARE
I'm glad to know it, lovey." And he gave his younger daughter a glance
apparently intended to show that in this case he should know what to do.

But Francie was looking at her sister as if her attention had been
arrested. "How do you mean--'a deep one'?"

"Why he wanted to break it off, the fiend!"

Francie stared; then a deeper flush leapt to her face, already mottled
as with the fine footprints of the Proberts, dancing for pain. "To break
off my engagement?"

"Yes, just that. But I'll be hanged if he shall. Poppa, will you allow
that?"

"Allow what?"

"Why Mr. Flack's vile interference. You won't let him do as he likes
with us, I suppose, will you?"

"It's all done--it's all done!" said Francie. The tears had suddenly
started into her eyes again.

"Well, he's so smart that it IS likely he's too smart," her father
allowed. "But what did they want you to do about it?--that's what _I_
want to know?"

"They wanted me to say I knew nothing about it--but I couldn't."

"But you didn't and you don't--if you haven't even read it!" Delia
almost yelled.

"Where IS the d---d thing?" their companion asked, looking helplessly
about him.

"On the boulevard, at the very first of those kiosks you come to. That
old woman has it--the one who speaks English--she always has it. Do go